You're My Muse
by rain-days
Summary: She’s fresh out of highschool, needing a job. He’s an earlyforties guy, needing a housekeeper. Shooter's ready to make a new book.
1. Hired

_Well I'm not sure how I came up with this idea, but I've got like... The last half of this story planned out. The beginning half... not so much. So that's the reason why this beginning isn't the best...But, it'll get... deeper. and more dramatic. After all I'm writing a fanfiction about Secret Window. Mort's half crazy (and good-looking), that's always an interesting thing. _

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Secret Window. I do not own Mort Rainey. I do not own Johnny Depp... Sigh_

_Well here... Read on, then review!_

* * *

"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E, mickey mouse, mickey mouse-"

Mort Rainey sang under his breath, staring at the white, blank screen of his laptop. He put his fingers on the keys, thinking of an idea for a story. Morten quickly pulled his fingers back. No. It was a stupid idea. Besides, he wasn't any good at love stories. He wasn't even good at love in real life. The ugly, stupid, hag of a bitch Amy ran off with ugly, stupid, rubbernecker Ted. At least he didn't have to worry about them anymore.

They were out of his mind. For most of the time. Out of the sane part. But now, he was regaining control of that back-woods, country red-necked hick Shooter. He would mumble a word in Mort's ear though, every now and then.

Taking a deep breath, Mort wiped his hands on the grungy pants that he had on the day before, and had slept in. He wiped his fingertips clean of the Doritos. For a few moments, he held his breath, tapping his fingers on the space bar of the keyboard.

"Damn it! Damn it all to hell!" Mort yelled suddenly. He just had to become a writer, didn't he? That's the way he made a living. Thinking of good ideas, and writing stories on them. If he had no ideas, there would be no stories, if there were no stories, there'd be no money. Yes, currently he had enough money that he could live... decently for a few more months, but if he didn't write another story soon, he'd go bankrupted.

Mort's eyes glanced to the small window that looked down upon the garden. The corn was growing fully, tall, fresh, very green. "Damned farmers have all the luck." He muttered to himself, scowling.

He took a cigarette from a drawer of the desk and a lighter that was laying next to it. He held the cigarette's end over the small flame. Seeing that it was lit, Mort smirked, "There. No one here to tell me when and when not to smoke." His housekeeper had quit three weeks before, after Mort's paychecks to her... became late. "Oh-well." He breathed, watching the puff of smoke float into the air, "She was a witch anyway."

Mort licked his lips and looked to the Mountain Dew can which was sitting on the desk. Good, he was getting thirsty. Mort picked it up, but it was empty. "Damn Mountain Dew, too!" Mort stared at the empty can for a moment. His eye's flickered up to the ceiling and he shook his head "I didn't mean it...Why do you hate me, God? I thought you were suppose to be... Forgiving? I know! A deal! I'll forgive you for not forgiving me if you let me write a good story. A good one." Mort opened his arms up, still gazing up to the ceiling, waiting for a story idea to pop into his head.

"Fine. I guess you didn't hear." He grumbled as he stood up.

Mort walked down his staircase, nearly tripping on clothes that littered the steps. Lazily, he walked into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. It was nearly empty. He'd have to go to town soon. Or send someone to town for him, according to the Sheriff. That backwoods, jackass Sheriff who was the Sheriff of this god awful town because he wasn't good enough to make it as a real cop.

He was two steps from the fridge when there was a knock on the door. Mort didn't move. They'd go away eventually, right?

Another knock. Then another. Mort rolled his eyes with a scold and quickly turned around, briskly walking to his door. Mort whipped the door opened, "Yes?"

There stood a girl who liked to be eighteen, or nineteen. Her skin was tan, but naturally. No... it was a beautiful olive color. She had large, not freakishly large, but amazing dark emerald green eyes. Her silky hair was a very deep, dark shade of chocolate brown. It rested on her shoulders in waves. "Mort Rainey?" She asked in a shy tone. The girl adjusted her weight to the other foot, 'forcing' Mort to look at her curves.

"Yes." He said, his eyes snapping back to her face.

"I'm here for the job."

"What?"

"House keeping. Your still looking for someone, aren't you?"

"Oh. Yes... You're hired."

"Don't you need to interview me?"

"Can you pick up clothes and whatever else? Keep my house looking decent?"

"Yes."

"Are you're le-" Mort stopped himself from saying 'legal', "Are you eighteen?"

The girl seemed to take notice of the almost 'legal' comment. "Yes, sir. Nineteen in three and a half months."

"Good." Mort smiled, "You're hired."


	2. Face to Face

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Mort calmly held a cup of hot coffee in between his hands, gazing at her with a small smile. "What did you say your name was?"

"Katie, Katie Doyle. What should I call you by?"

"Mr. Rainey would be alright, Miss Doyle."

"You can call me Katie, Mr. Rainey." She said with a smile. Katie felt she was very lucky for getting this job so soon. But why? Why hadn't someone else gotten the job? He seemed polite. Mort Rainey was also undoubtly handsome. Softly tanned skin, messy, but at the same time neat hair, and the most gorgeous deep brown eyes she had ever seen. Yes, Katie could melt at someone's eyes, it was her 'thing'. Looking into his, she was surprised she wasn't in a puddle all over the floor. Katie could feel her cheeks burning, the foolish smiled wouldn't leave her face. She quickly dropped her eyes down to the cup of coffee.

Mort looked down at her full cup of coffee, "Don't you like it?"

"I'm not much of a coffee person... Tea though, I like hot tea."

"Hot tea?" He questioned as he looked out of the window to the lake, "Haven't had that in ages." The last time he had it was with Amy, when the sun was just starting to rise. Why did his thoughts keep falling back to Amy? Mort looked back to Katie, "Well how about you start tomorrow? Come by around ten, ten-thirty."

She nodded, beginning to stand up, "Yes, Mr. Rainey."

"Oh. I need some things from town. Could you stop and get them for me? Just bring them back with you tomorrow?"

Katie nodded again, "Yeah, no problem."

"Alright." Mort gave her a grin then stood up, "Wait here for a minute." He walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into his room. Mort stood there for a moment, wondering where his money was. He knew he had just seen a fifty dollars a few hours ago. Slowly, Mort began to walk around his room, searching. "Ah ha." He said softly, looking to the table beside his bed. Mort grabbed it, and walked down stairs, putting the money on the counter.

"I want... a few bags of Doritos, twenty-four pack of Mountain Dew..." Mort racked his brains, what else did he need? "Some milk, bread, and whatever else you think I need... and some hot tea." He added with a smile.

"So that's a few bags of Doritos, pack of Mountain Dew, milk, bed, whatever else I think you need, and some hot tea?"

"Exactly."

"What kind of hot tea?"

"Whatever your favorite kind is, Katie."

Katie smiled, "Alright..." She grabbed her keys off of the table, "Then I'll see you tomorrow, ten-thirty." She told him, walking to the door.

"Until then... Good bye."

"Bye." Katie gave him a last look then walked out of the door.

Mort leaned his head against the screen door, watching Katie drive away. There. He knew it. He didn't need Amy. She could easily be replaced.

"_What, exactly, do you mean by replaced?"_ A voice asked him in his head.

"Replaced... There aren't that many different meanings for the word 'replaced' ,is there?" He snapped back with a scowl.

"_Oh, sure, Amy can be replaced, true enough. But then do you want dear, young Katie to be put in Amy's spot. Do you want to wake up to her face each morning?_"

Mort quirked his brows, thinking. "It'd be nice, I suppose."

"_You'll get lost in your stories again, though. Katie will feel unwanted and unloved by you... She'll find someone else that can treat her better than you can."_

At this, Mort let out a growl as he whipped around to see a form of himself, standing there, regarding Mort thoughtfully, his hands folded together. "It won't happen!" Mort yelled at him.

"_It will, you know it will. She'll find someone else, and you'll find out. You'll barge into their cheap motel room with a gun."_

"THE GUN WASN'T LOADED!"

"_But you wanted it to be. You wanted to kill them. And eventually, you did."_

"I did not kill them!" Mort shouted, holding his head in his hands.

"_Where do you think they've went? Do you think it was all a dream? They're dead." _He looked over Mort's shoulder, outside and let out a sigh. _"Just fire her before you do anything you'll regret...Katie's back. You forgot to give her the money." _

Mort hastily looked out the door to see Katie's car pulling up in front of the house. When he looked back, to himself, there was nobody standing there.


	3. Taking a Break

Katie had come about twenty minutes ago. Mort sat infront of his desk, staring at his blank laptop screen. He was running through all the possiblities in his head, trying to push the ones of love then murder out of his mind. He couldn't think of that. He couldn't write another story that went into great detail of his-No... the character's love's murder. No. Not like Secret Window. Never again would he describe what he-No... the character would do. Where they'd bury the body and why it would be the perfect place to do it. Because then Shooter would get a hold of him and Mort didn't want another encounter with him.

Then Shooter would try to kill Katie. No! Not Katie. Why would Shooter try to kill her?

_"Because you love her. But your out of your mind. That's why Shooter, well actually you, would try to kill Katie. Bury her next to the rotten corpses of Ted and Amy."_ A voice said in his ear from behind.

Mort didn't have to look behind him. He knew who it was. His otherside. His better half.

No.

Not his better half. He had no other half. He was completely whole. No halves. Mort Rainey was whole. He was sane. He wasn't losing his mind. Right? Right.

"Mr. Rainey?"

The voice came so suddenly from the top of the staircase that it made him jump. But still, he tried to act like everything was keen. Peachy keen. "Call me Mort." This shot so suddenly from his mouth he didn't know what he was saying until it was said.

"Okay...Mort...Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Fine." He gave a single nod as if confirming this, "What did you need?"

"Do you want me to clean off your desk or something?"

Mort took a swift glance of the messy desk littered with Mountain Dew cans and Doritos bags. "No... "

Katie walked closer to him and held out a small tin trash can, in it was a plastic bag. "I found this in my room. I don't need it. I was thinking that you could put it beside your desk, throw the chip bags and cans in it." She set it on the floor next to her desk. "Since your desk is off-limits..."

Mort smiled then let his eyes wander to his laptop. Was his desk honestly off-limits? It's not like there was anything important or private in the drawers. Except the ciggarettes. Which he didn't smoke. They were there...Just in case of...something. And on his laptop? Nothing on it.

_"Except Secret Window."_ His 'better-half' said in the back of his mind.

Yes. That was right. Mort saved the story to his laptop now. Incase any other crazy hicks came back to his house, claiming the story was their's. What would Katie think if she read secret window? Would she think nothing of it? Would she think that this really was what he was feeling inside? She'd think he was a psycho. Yes. It was better if his desk just stayed off-limits.

"You know what Katie? I'm having writer's block... You've seem to do a good job on the house today. How about we take a break? Go sit by the lake for ten minutes. Have a cup of your hot tea." This also shot out of his mouth. He was coming on quite strong to her. Well Mort thought so, maybe Katie wouldn't notice though. If she did... she didn't show any sign of it.

"Alright."

So five minutes later, they both sat on the grassy ground, next to the lake. Katie was hardly saying anything. She did seem like the shy, quiet type though.

"Geez. You're very talktive and loud. You need to quiet down." He said with a sarcastic smile, tilting his head to the side looking at her.

Katie smiled."Yeah... I know." She kept her eyes on the ripples of the lake, pressing her lips together. Oh how Mort wanted his lips to touch hers. Taste her mouth. Touch her silky, soft looking hair. Run his hands over her cheek, neck, arms and her whole body softly.

Mort mentally slapped himself, forcing his head away from her quickly. She was only...what? Eighteen? Nineteen? But she wasn't a minor at least. She was of age.

Again, he mentally slapped himself.

_"Dirty mind, Mort. Dirty, dirty, filthy mind. Get her out of there. She's still young and innocent. No need for her to be corrupted by you and you're impure thoughts." _Of all the times his other half had to comment....

"Want to go on a quick walk?" Katie asked with a light smile.

"Yes!" Mort answered almost like an eager child. He replaced the excited expression on his face with his normal 'I don't give a damn about life' look and shrugged, "I guess." Mort stood up, brushing off his pants.

Katie smiled and stood up, "Okay." She took the empty mug out of Mort's hand. "I'll bring these inside. Then we can be off."

"I can bring them in." Mort offered.

"No...I have to use the bathroom anyways."

"Oh." Mort stuffed his hands into his pockets deeply, embrassed. "Yeah."

"Yeah." For a moment, they stood there in silence. "I'll be back in a moment." Katie said, walking away.

Mort suddenly noticed it wasn't exactly one of the warmest days to go on a walk. "Grab one of my sweatshirts for yourself!" He called to her and she nodded. Mort really needed to get control of what he was saying...

Mort watched her walk into his home and he looked back to the lake. It felt like someone was staring at him though. Staring intently. He sighed deeply. The sheriff, no doubt. Lazily, Mort looked over to see who was watching him.

And leaning against a tree, in black pants, and a black, old-looking jacket, wearing a black hat there was the person he was least hoping to see ever again in his life.

Shooter.


	4. Other Plans

_Okay... Sorry for making you wait so long for an update... But for like that past 2-3 weeks I've been sick and I'm just starting to get better again. And I watched secret window just a bit ago and I'm thinking 'hey I should add more to my story' _

_  
Which is what I did. But I don't know if it's up to...what I want it to be. Oh and also sorry for what Shooter say, or the way that he says it. I'm not really too sure how to type up the accent. heh. _

_  
Well... read on._

_

* * *

_

Mort felt his eyes widen as he glanced back into his house. Katie. Would she be alright in there? What if she came outside? What then?

"She's a beaut." Shooter smiled, his thick Southern (crossed with backwoods) drawl was in every word. Every letter.

Mort's eyes narrowed as he hastily stormed up to Shooter, "Leave. Now!"

"Not too loud. She'll will be wonderin' who your talkin' to."

"What do you want you ignorant hick?"

Shooter only smiled. A sickening smile. "It's a concern of mine that you ain't got any ideas for a story."

"I do too. I've got plenty."

Shooter, in turn, scolded at this in an annoyed way, "Like what?"

Mort stayed silent for a moment then shook his head, "I'm not telling you. You'll take my idea and say it was your own. That's what you did last time."

"_My_ story had a better end." Shooter smiled again, "You agree, dontcha? After all, you used it."

"What do you mean?" Mort asked, raising an eyebrow. This hick was losing his mind. Even more so than it already was.

"You used it. Not in your 'lil story though."

Mort cracked his jaw, glancing back to the house. When he looked back to Shooter he was already walking away. "Where are you going?!"

"You told me to leave."

"Why did you come here in the first place?"

"A story... An idea for you."

Mort shifted his weight to his other foot, "What's the idea?"

"Has an older man who thinks he's changed and young, purtty gal... The man falls back into his old ways though. The gal is the one who has to suffer from it. Second to Secret Window" Shooter again started to walk, his back turned to Mort.

He disappeared into the trees just as Mort was just about to yell 'it's called a sequel.'

Mort took a step forward to chase after him, but Katie's voice held him back, "Are you ready?"

* * *

Mort and Katie walked side-by-side next to the lake, climbing and ducking over low branches.

"It's beautiful out here, Mort." She sighed happily, gazing around at the lakes and trees and everything else.

She was unaware that it sent chills up along his spine when she said his name. It just seemed to roll off her tongue in a silky smooth yet crisp way. He loved her. No! No, that isn't what he meant for himself to think. Mort couldn't love her. He loved when she said his name... Mort only has just met Katie, for not even a week yet. But she seemed to be the one for him. Mort did believe in love at first sight, didn't he? Well Mort was sure. The other half of Mort was trying to convince him that she was just eye-candy. Being alone in the woods...well, it made him lonely. And that's why he thought he loved her.

"Yes, yes I suppose it is." He answered after a few silent moments. Mort decided to throw Katie's name into some sentence. Maybe it would send chills up _her _spine. "I suppose I just haven't had time to really look at it. Always at home, Katie... Trying to make up some new story." Good job, Mort! He threw her name into it, said he was always at home (so she'd know that he would always be there with her), plus said trying to make up a new story which meant that he also cared about his career.

"_Well alright. You hinted a few things to the girl. Do you honestly believe that she's going to fall into your arms and beg for you to take her?" The voice asked in the back of his mind._

"It would be nice." Mort mumbled while shrugging.

"What?" Katie asked, looking at him. She abruptly stopped. Mort also stopped walking, standing infront of her.

"What?"

"You just said 'it would be nice'. What would be nice?"

"It would be nice to..." Mort's eyes darted to the lake, "to have a nice, hot day...To take a swim in the lake."

She smiled, "Yeah..." Though Katie accepted this answer, she did not start walking. She only stood there, infront of him, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes with a soft smile on her lips. Mort tilted his head to the slide, his eyes gazing back into hers. Softly, he bit his bottom lip. He wanted to kiss her, but knew he had to resist.

So there Katie stood, smiling sweetly, putting a hand through her hair and Mort just stood infront of her in an awkward, in a not knowing what to do way. Mort opened his mouth to say something clever, witty, and charming but no words came from his mouth. That was probably better anyways. He'd probably make himself look like a jackass. But even though no words came out, a strange gurgling sound did.

Katie eyes fell to her shoes and Mort winced at this on the inside. Did she think her feet were more interesting than Mort himself? "Maybe we should be getting back now."

"Why?" Mort questioned all too suddenly in a too much of a demanding, yet weak way.

"I should be getting home." She told him softly, turning away, beginning to walk in the direction of Mort's home.

Mort ventured forth though, "More important plans?"

"You mean do I have important things than to spend time with you?" He could hear the delight in Katie's voice at this. She turned her head and smiled at him and of course, in return, he smiled back. "Why? Will you miss me?"

"I-" Mort swallowed. Yes. Yes he would miss her. Very much. "Well I just think my house will get messy."

"Then I'll come back tomorrow."

"You have the day off tomorrow." Mort scowled himself at this. Why'd he point it out to her?

"Well... A cleaning lady's work is never done." She shrugged, "I'll come back anyway."

"Okay, great." He said with a stupid grin. Mort scowled himself again and tried to make his voice sound uncaring, "So, what are you plans for tonight."

"I'm hanging out with my boyfriend tonight." These words made all of the happiness the Mort felt at the moment instantly disappear. Cracking his jaw, Mort nodded.

"Oh."

"Maybe you could meet him tomorrow?"She asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Alright." Mort shrugged. Katie smiled and started walking again. But Mort stayed behind for a few moments longer as he looked to the lake. How could Mort make Katie love him if she loved someone else?

"_That's just it. You can't. She loves her boyfriend, who's most likely her age. You can't do anything about it."_

"Ha." Mort laughed silently as he put his hands in his pockets, following Katie. This was a challenge from his 'better half'. Mort would take up this challenge without second thought, "Well maybe you're right. Maybe_ I_ can't do anything about it. But I know someone who can."

For that time Mort was glad he saw Shooter. The hick was bound to return sometime and when he did, Mort had a job for him.

* * *

_And for the next chapter: Mort meets the boyfriend..._


	5. Meeting the Saint

Mort Rainy was not too excited for this day. He was not too excited for Katie's boyfriend, or meeting him. Not too excited at all. You could even say he was negative about this. Could you blame him? Someone who he liked quite alot, loved some other man. Wasn't that a line in Secret Window? 'A woman that would steal your love when it was all you had was not much of a woman at all'. Something such as that anyways. Details weren't important to Mort at the moment.

He pushed the curtain away from the window and peered outside to were Katie was. Along with her boyfriend who had just pulled up on a motorcycle. Mort cracked his jaw and narrowed his eyes as he carefully watched this young man. His face had a slight tan, his eyes were bright blue, his hair a short black. There was something suspicious about him.

_"Your only trying to convince yourself that he shouldn't be trusted. In reality, you know that everyone problem loves him and thinks nothing but good thoughts of him. He's a good one for Katie."_

"Shut-up." Mort growled to the voice.

Katie and the boy were walking up to the porch, and Mort quickly left the window, sitting down on the couch infront of the fireplace. Hastily, he picked up a book, pretending to be lost in it's words. The door opened and he heard Katie's silky, cheery voice"Mort" she asked, looking at him.

"Oh" He shut the book and dropped it onto the coffee table. He looked over his shoulder then stood up, walking to them. Mort hated the boy even more, being up close to him. He'd like to wring that neck of his, watching his face turn blue-

"This is Mort Rainy. Mort this is Derek." She said, motioning to her boyfriend.

Derek gave Mort a big white smile and stuck out his hand"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Yes...Likewise." He said, reluctantly shaking his hand. "Why don't you two come sit down" Mort sat in an armchair and nodded for the two of them to sit on the couch, to which they did. "I see you have a motorcycle...Good-looking... Is that the only thing you have"

Derek grinned and looked at Katie then back to Mort"Thanks. No it's not the only thing I have. I've got a car... The bike was a gift."

"Gift for what"

"For finishing the boot-camp type of training for being in the Marines."

Mort almost scowled at this boy's answer. The Marines? For crying out loud... Would Mort, being a writer, be able to compare Derek, who was a Marine"Oh." He nodded as he folded his hands together.

"I've really liked your stories. Very interestring. My favorite was Secret Window... The way that you described the man's thoughts in words. You almost pulled me away from the fact that he was planning on murdering his wife. That man was crazy."

Crazy? _Crazy? _"I'm glad you liked it, Derek." Mort's voice echoed with a smile and nod. Yes, yes, yes... Putting his hands around Derek's neck was beginning to sound like a very good idea. Very tempting.

"Derek helps to pass out gifts around Christmas to children who's parents can't afford much as well." Katie added.

"Really" Mort nodded again to Derek in a respected way... Though thoughts ran through his mind, 'Shit... He's a fucking saint. Fucking saint.' What was Mort going to do now?

Derek shrugged to himself"Well it was a type of school project... Get food donations, and go around to shelters and, being a teen, I thought my life was awful but seeing others that didn't have a house, money, and stuff like I did just woke something up in me."

Mort nodded again, but swore to himself in his thoughts. "I'm going to use the bathroom." Katie's voice broke in to the conversation. Both of them said 'okay's and watched her as she stood up, walking up the stairs to the bathroom.

"This is a nice place you've got here, Mr. Rainey."

"Thank-you Derek, I do try... Where do you live"

Derek grinned"Just in a small apartment. Above a bar... It's about forty-five minutes west from here. I figured that I'd only be here for a bit before I go back to training... Didn't want to spend all my money."

"I see..." Mort looked up as Katie walked down the steps and he softly smiled, and she returned it.

"I need to be going... Back to work, you know." He said with a grin. Derek stood and looked at Katie. He kissed her cheek"See ya tomorrow night, Kate." Derek shook Mort's hand again"Nice meet you again, sir." Mort nodded. Derek smiled to the both of them"Bye." He said, turning away, walking out of the door. Moments later his motorcycle could be heard starting up and pulling away.

"Want anything, Mort" Katie asked, walking infront of him.

"Umm..." Mort looked around himself then shook his head"No. No I'm fine."

"Alright... I'll just tidy up a bit. If you need anything just call."

"I'm going to be outside... Need some fresh air." Without waiting for her reply, he stood up and walked out of his home. Mort stood infront of his porch then looked around himself. In a few swift strides he was at the edge of his lake. He gazed into his own reflection. Maybe Mort was over reacting to Derek...

_"Yes. You were over-reacting. You were going to tell Shooter to take care of him. Murder. You were over reacting, unbelieveably. Well... It isn't unbelieveable for you. Look at what happen to Amy, Ted, Tom, and"_

He kicked a stone into the water, shattering his reflection. Mort didn't need his reflection mouthing off to him, that son of a bitch. He didn't need to listen to it. It was possible though that Derek was as horrible as Mort tried to convince himself that he was.

* * *

_(... now this is like a week after...)_

* * *

There was knocking on his door. Knocking, knocking, more knocking. Mort slowly came out of his dreams as he rolled over in his bed, feeling his nightstand for his glasses. He put them on lazily and gazed at the digital clock. 3:47 a.m. Mort stared at the clock. Who was that at his door? Why wouldn't they go away? What was so damned important to wake him?

Shooter.

The thought crossed his mind an instant later. It could only be him. But what did he want? Why was he here now? Mort got up and slowly crossed his room and reached for the golf club that was lying on the floor. He carefully opened his bedroom door and stood at the top of the stairs.

More knocks. Tightening his grip on the golf club, Mort walked down the steps and stood about a yard away, ready to throw open the door and spring into action at any moment.

"Mort" Katie's voice came despertly.

"Hold on" He called and Mort glanced around himself before pushing the golf club under a cough. Mort then rubbed his face, trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. He looked to the table next to the door and pulled the black hat onto his head, so his hair wouldn't look so messy.

Mort pulled open the door and looked at Katie. "What's wrong" He asked. Her pretty face was all blotchy pink and red, her eyes were filled with tears, and fresh tears were rolling down her face. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him, crying into his shoulder. Mort's eyes shifted from side to side, awkwardly. Slowly, he put his arms around her waist, resting his cheek against her soft hair. "What's wrong" He repeated.

"I-I-I didn't know w-who else to g-g-go to." Her shaking voice told him inbetween sobs.

"Katie." Mort kept his arms around her but pulled his head back slightly, so he could see her face. "What is it?"

"D-Derek! They found h-him in his c-c-closet! H-h-he k-killed himself"


	6. Only Helping

Mort sat beside Katie on his couch. It took much convincing to get Katie to just sit down. But as soon as she did her sobs slowly died away.

Katie was staring at the empty fireplace, hugging her arms to her body. Her eyes seemed empty yet distressed. Mort sat next to her, closely, but not too close. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. Not now. His chocolate eyes watched her in a tender way. Katie took a deep breath, and shivered. "Are you cold?" Mort asked, though he knew he'd get no answer. She neither shook her head nor nodded yes. Katie only sat there, staring ahead of herself.

"Alright." He said with a nod. Mort slowly crossed his room and kneeled by the fireplace. Logs were already in it. He grabbed an old newspaper and threw it in with the logs. He grabbed a matchbook and ripped out a match, striking it against the book. All of a sudden, the head of the match went up into flames and he threw it into the fireplace. For a moment, Mort only kneeled there, gazing into the flames.

He looked over his shoulder to Katie. Her eyes flickered away from the fire to his eyes and briefly, they held eachother's eyes. Then she looked away and Mort could feel the disappointed in him growing. He just wanted to gaze into her eyes, yet she looked away. Mort let out a soft breath as he stood up and made his way towards the couch. He sat down by Katie again. Mort wouldn't urge her to talk. He figured that she'd talk when she was ready.

Now she was looking at him. He felt his heart beat faster, and maybe even skip a few beats as he looked into her deep green eyes. Katie slowly moved closer to him, "Mort..." She said softly.

He gulped in a nervous way. Mort opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. Why was he so nervous? It wasn't like this is the first time he'd been alone with a girl. "Y-yes, Kat?" Kat? This was the first time he'd call her something other Katie. He hadn't even called her Kate before... He'd just moved right along to 'Kat'. How would she react? Mort glanced around himself and drew his head back as she moved even closer.

Then suddenly, his attention was caught by something else. He was standing right behind Katie. His 'better-half'. He was cleaning off his glasses on his shirt. He put them back on and folded his hands together, shaking his head. _"She's only doing this because she's upset about Derek. You know it... Oh, don't give me that look. You can't honestly believe he killed himself. Derek had a good job, quite the bit of money, great girlfriend, friends, and family. There would be no reason for him to kill himself..." _

He shook his head once again, _"I expect foul play is at hand."_

His attention was drawn away from...himself to Katie. She leaned forward, kissing his lips softly. Mort couldn't help but to kiss her back, putting a hand behind her neck. Katie pulled back and Mort glanced behidn her. He was gone. Good. Katie put her hands on his cheeks gently, forcing him to look back to her. He was trapped in her gaze. Katie moved, sitting on his lap, facing him.

Katie began to kiss his lips once again, and Mort let his head lean back againsnt the back of the couch. He moved his hands to her hips as she started to kiss his neck. Mort closed his eyes, escaping his life for the first time in ages.

Mort leaned her back on the couch as he leaned over her with a grin on his face. Katie only smiled softly, putting a hand through Mort's hair. Mort kissed her lips, putting a hand on her cheek.

_"She's wrong. You're wrong." _The voice interuppted _"She's wrong because she thinks she loves you. It's only to help her deal with Derek's death though. You're wrong because you know that. Yet you won't stop. You're taking advantage of her grieving. You're taking advantage of her. Your in your forties. She is still in her teens. Yes, she's 'legal' but she's only 18." _

Mort ignored this.

_"She had just found out two and a half hours ago the Derek was found dead in his own home with a noose around his neck, hanging in his own closet! The jar that was labeled 'charity' was shattered on the floor. His Marine's jacket was thrown across the room, the buttons seperated, the jacket was ripped all to hell. Very disrespectful. The murderer did this all while Derek was hanging in his closet... When you meet him, you wanted to kill him by chocking him, putting your hands around his neck. A week later, Derek is found dead... A rope around his neck." _

"I DIDN'T DO IT!" Mort shouted, jumping to his feet.

Katie stared at him, "What? What didn't do?"

He spun back around to Katie. "I-" Mort paused, excuses and reasons were flying through his mind to why he'd say this, "I meant to be a comfort to you... I wasn't... I didn't do what I meant to do... I'm sorry, Katie. I... I didn't mean to began to kiss you."

Katie sat up slowly. "No. No, I'm sorry... I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I'm just a bit dazed and tired."

Mort slowly felt the disappointed return. She didn't know what she was thinking? Did Katie think she made a mistake by kissing him?

His eyes wandered to the clock. 4:30 a.m. "You might as well sleep here for tonight, Katie-"

"I don't want to be a burden."

"Just sleep here for tonight. It's too late for you to go home... Might have something happen...Just sleep here. You can sleep in my room."

She shook her head, "No. No, I don't want to take you're room. You're already offering me to sleep here. I can't take you're bed."

"Katie. Just take it. I don't care. I've slept on the couch many, many times before. Now just go." Her green eyes stared at him and Mort sighed, "I mean it. Just go..."

Katie stood and slowly walked up the steps. She stopped halfway up and looked back at him, "Good-night, Mort."

"Good-night, Katie." He watched her walk into his room and close the door behind him.

Mort sat on his couch, holding his head in his hands. He _was_ taking advantage of Katie just moments before, wasn't he? He also knew that Derek wasn't one to take his own life. As much as Mort hated to admit it, he looked like some sort of young god when Mort met him.

No. Derek hadn't taken his own life.

Shooter somehow would've been able to find out. And he did. And he killed Derek for a story for the writer who hadn't had a thing published in months.

Shooter had killed Derek to help Mort.

* * *

_There. How do you like that?_

_Some Mort and Katie action. Some of Mort's 'better half'. Mort realizing that Derek wasn't the type to kill himself... and that only Shooter could have only done something that horrible- hang him in his own closet, shatter the 'charity' jar, and wreck his Marines' jacket. Then he realizes that Shooter had done it to help Mort with his next story._


	7. Credit and Thanks

_A.n: Been very busy lately from trying to catch up on things from my vacation at the beginning of this month._

_I know this chapter is short, but at least it's something, right?_

Mort sat at his chair, infront of the laptop placed on his desk. There was a good amount of writing. Four of Five chapter actually. Good chapters. No, not good but great chapters. But they were just like his old writings. They were dark, with dark thoughts, and possessed brutal, unsolvable killings, murders. But the murder wasn't really unsolvable, was it?

No. No, Derek had hung himself in his closet. It wasn't Mort's fault that he did. Who knew what Derek was thinking at the time, maybe he wasn't even thinking. "Right?" He questioned out loud, accidently.

"Mr. Rainey, ain't a good thing to be talkin' to yourself." The thick accent came from the door and Mort's eyes jumped away from the screen to the door. "People will think you've gone crazy."

Mort only sat there, mouth slightly hung open as he stared at Shooter. What was he doing here? Mort wasn't crazy, right? Right. Shooter was the crazy one. He was a no-doubt psycho. "What do you want?" He called to Shooter, snapping out of his thoughts as he stood up. Mort stormed down the staircase and stood infront of the door, glaring at him from behind the screen.

"Credit. Thanks."

"For what? What have you done that you need a 'thanks' for."

"For my idea, your newest story." Mort scowled and Shooter continued on, "You're using the idea, aren't you?"

"No." Mort said firmly "Now leave."

Shooter raised his eyebrows in surprize but let them drop back down as he put a knowing smile on his lips, "There are more things to give me credit for besides the story that you supposedly ain't using."

"Oh really? Like what?" He demanded.

"Getting Derek out of the picture."

Mort felt a lump in his throat as some of the anger melted away. He guessed that Shooter had killed him, yet hearing him admit to the crime... Oh God, did Shooter did this because of Mort? Did he know that Mort wanted Derek dead, forever out of Katie's life? He couldn't. Mort didn't say anything to Shooter about Derek. It wasn't possible. It wasn't.

"I believe I need a thanks for that. Now it's just Katie and you."

Mort's tounge went to the bottom of upper jaw as the 'th' sound began to form but Mort immediately stopped. "You're a murdered. Murderers that kill innocent people should go to prison...and die there."

Shooter narrowed his eyes, "You might want to look in the mirror then. You're one, too."

"I have never done anything like that! Never! And I never will! Maybe you could the the exception though...LEAVE!" And with the Mort slammed the door shut and turned heel quickly running up the stairs, skipping every other one.

Once in his room, he slammed that door and locked it. He let out a breath of relief once he saw the door was locked. Mort took a few steps back and let his body drop on his bed which was still made neatly. Katie had made the bed, but Mort had slept on the couch again last night, lying next to the phone, hoping for a call.

Why hadn't she called? Did she suspect him of something? Did she have the right too?

Dropping his head on the pillow, he rested his hands on his chest as he stared out of the window and the gray sky. It had been very humid earlier in the day, rain was suppose to be coming. Mort let out a soft breath as he closed his eyes softly. A low rumble of thunder met his ears but he could still tell that the storm was miles away.

It did not take more than a minute after that for Mort to fall asleep with thoughts of the storm, Katie, and Shooter piled into his mind and dreams.

_Next Chapter: Well something very important _

_will happen, of course involving Katie._


	8. Wanting to Scream

Mort groggily opened his eyes slowly and rubbed them into focus before putting on his glass which had fallen off. He shifted his gaze to the clock. It was just about 5:30. The sky was still gray and cloudy, the thunder was more constant. A few flashes of lightening would light up the clouds. He sat up in bed and looked around his room. He had a bag of chips on his nightstand and Mort nodded to himself. Grabbing one, he sighed and stuffed it in his mouth. It was stale, but yet still good.

He threw his feet over the edge of the bed and rubbed the back of his neck, tired as hell. "This is the life." He told himself, sarcastically. "The fucking life. Having on a crush on a teen when your middle aged, having an insane hick always on your back, dirt poor..." Mort walked out of his room, "And all of the other shit that I have to deal with."

Walking down the steps, and into his living room he laid on the couch, staring at the unlit fireplace. He wished he had a tv. At least he could watch others' lives, their perfect worlds. Their full lives, scandals, loves, secrets, friends, drama. Mort wished for something like that. He wished for the perfect life. How in the hell would that happen though? God, in Mort's mind, surely hated him with no doubt.

He rested his arm over his forehead as he sighed deeply. There was no one to care for Mort... all except for Katie. Katie though was his house keeper... at least she was a human he could talk to. So why did Mort give her a few days off? Oh yes, that's right- to mourn for Derek. Derek that lucky son of a bitch. He was dead yet still had people saying how much he meant to them, how good he was, how much they missed him. Derek didn't deserve it. No way did he deserve all of that, especially from Katie.

Katie.

Why was Mort care so much for Katie? Why did he care for her missing Derek?

"_Because you're jealous."_

"Shut-up." He grumbled. "Shut-up before I make you." Mort said, thinking of the set of knives he had in his kitchen drawer. The sharp blades. He could go on with his threat... Mort could cut his other side out of him. That way he'd be just one person. Just Mort. To his pleasure, his better half was listening to him. The voice stopped.

He heaved himself off of the couch, and shuffled to the kitchen, feeling a thirst for something. He threw open the fridge door and peered into it. It was just about empty. Katie needed to get more food for him. Oh-well, Mort wasn't hungry anyway. He only wanted something to drink. Just something to drink. There was a bottle in the way back, the bottom shelf. He reached in and pulled it out, eyeing it up. A Jack Daniels drink. Mort lifted it to his lips and glanced around himself. He hadn't drank since Katie started working for him. She wasn't here right now though. She wasn't here for him when he needed her to be. Mort threw his head back, letting the drink flow down his throat.

Mort took a few more gulps then walked into the living room again, the Jack Daniels in hand. He leaned back on his couch and took another swig. Who cares if he got himself drunk? There was no one to see it. No one to help him. No one cares... Life isn't fair. He tipped his head back again, taking another drink. A knock on the door interrupted him. Dammit.

He get up and walked over to the door, setting the bottle on the fifth step of the staircase behind him, then threw a shirt over it. Mort turned back to the door and pulled it open to find a girl standing in front of him. Not just any girl though, but Katie. Rain was beginning to fall behind her. "Katie..." He said in a soft voice, looking at her, "Come in..." Mort stepped out of the way and Katie came in, her hair falling in front of her face. "What's the matter?"

She gulpped and shook her head not being able to say anything. Mort put a comforting arm around her shoulders and lead her to the couch, sitting her down on it. "Now c'mon, Kate... What's the matter?"

"I think my car is stuck in the mud." She said this as if it was an excuse to be in his home, "I'm sorry to bother you."

"Don't worry. It's not a bother to me. I love your company."

She lifted her eyes to his and smiled a small, sweet smile, "Thank-you, Mort."

He nodded and let his eyes rest on her legs, though he had a thoughtful look covering his eyes. She was wearing a short, jean skirt, showing off her tan, smooth legs. Mort's hand was grabbing at the end of his own baggy shirt, and he smiled. "No problem, Katie."

"I don't know who else to talk to though."

"I see." He said, slowly moving his eyes from her legs, to her middle, her chest, then finally up to her face. "What do you need to say?" Mort asked, his hands covering her's.

"It's finally starting to sink in about Derek..." Hearing that this was going to be a conversation about Derek, Mort let go of her hands in annoyance and leaned against the cushions of the couch. "You know... I-I don't think he killed himself..." Mort's eyes snapped back to her at hearing this, "I think he was murdered."

"For the better." He said before he could stop himself.

"What?" She asked with wide eyes.

"What goes around comes around. He did something to deserve it if he didn't kill himself. Katie, he most likely deserved what he got. These things just don't happen... It's all for the better." He said in a matter-of-factly way. Before he knew what was happening, Katie's hand was across his face. It stung. "WHAT?" He asked in anger, "HE DESERVED IT!" Mort caught Katie's hand the second time, and he gripped onto her wrist tightly. He could see that she was trying not to wince. He threw her wrist away from him.

Katie stood up, "HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT! I loved him!"

"If you loved him, why are you always flirting with me? Tell me that!" She said nothing but turned and walked out of his home, slamming the door behind her. Mort moved toward the window and watched her as she ran through the now pouring rain, and climbed into her car, trying to start it. But it was stuck in the mud. She would not look back at him though. He saw she threw her keys into the seat next to her, and folded her arms across her chest, slinking down into the seat. Was she crying. Did he make her cry?

Mort scowled and turned away, walking to his staircase. He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels, he gulped the rest of it, finishing it off.

"Fuck her!" He muttered to himself, "Bitch." Mort looked at the empty bottle. He thought she loved him. Mort threw the bottle against the fireplace and it shattered. Mort wanted to shout. He wanted to scream. Now Katie hated him, no one cared for him. Katie was his last hope. She wanted nothing more to do with him now.

His chocolate eyes looked to the kitchen, and on the table he saw something he hadn't noticed before. A black farmer's hat. It was Shooter's. What was the backwood trash doing in his house! He stormed over to it and out of annoyance and anger, pulled it onto his head. His eyes slowly turned to his reflection. With an empty feeling, no emotion he stared at himself. Then his attention turned to Katie's car, and to Katie sitting low in the seat.

He traced the brim of the hat with his finger then pulled the front door opened, walking across the porch, stepping into the rain. There he stood, in the pouring rain, behind Katie's car.

Katie was the last person that mattered to him, but she now surely hated him.

With a smug look on his face, his feet began moving to her car.


	9. A Deed for Mort

He stood behind the car, and softly put his hand on the trunk. Rain was dripping from the rim of his hat, the rain now pouring down more fiercely than before. It was surprising how fast the dirt turned to mud. Not a little mud, but thick, trapping mud. He took another step forward, his fingers were curled, just a bit away from being a fist. This girl was a slut. She did flirt with him. But then would not stop whining over the worthless son-of-a-bitch Derek. Fuck him. This girl was nothing but trouble.

Trouble must be destroyed of for the sake of everyone. Especially Mort. Poor Mort's had to deal with enough in his life. Being named Morten. Being sent to a nuthouse when he was eight for two and a half weeks. Constantly having to check in with therapists when he was a teen. Finding Amy. Losing a child. Finding out Amy was cheating on him with Ted. This would be done for Mort, poor, poor Mort.

He stepped the side and walked to the door of the car, peering inside at Katie, who was seemingly sleeping. Lifting a fist, he intently focus on her face, and knocked on the window. She jumped, and her head snapped to him. She stared at him wide a 'what do you want?' look on her face. "You're a bastard." She mouthed to him though the glass.

He shook his head and mouthed back, "Sorry." Katie stared at him, and leaned forward, resting her arms on the wheel of the car.

"What do you want?"

He tapped the window again. Katie only mouthed 'Broken.' He paused then pointed to the lock inside the door, then pulled the handle of the car. She had locked herself in. Katie face was overcome with suspicion. She shook her head. He again said, "Sorry." His brown eyes met hers and they stared into each other's for a moment.

Katie swallowed hard, and looked around with a worried look. But there was no one there for assistance with him. She unlocked the door, then moved to the other side of the car, keeping her feet on the seat so he couldn't sit down.

He opened the car door, and leaned in, looking at her with a small smirk on his lips. "'Lo, ma'm."

Katie scrunged up her nose, as water from his hat were dripping on her legs. She also scrunged him her nose at his voice, "Why are you talking like that?"

"Talkin' like what?"

"That. Like your from the south. You aren't... And why are you wearing that hat? I've never seen you in it..."

"I thought I could be dressy for you, ma'm."

Her right hand gripped onto the bottom of the seat, her left hand gripped onto her skirt as she was trying to calm her nerves. Something wasn't right."

"You know my name, Mort. It's Katie. Why do you keep calling me 'ma'm'?"

"You've got a lot of questions. Too many for my liking." He said with a scowl, as he leaned futher into the car.

She pressed herself against the door, her right hand now fumbling behind her back for the lock and the handle. "Stop it, Mort. You're scaring me." She whispered.

With a smirk he reached forward and grabbed one of her arms, "Why you callin' me Mort?"

"That's your name!" She cried as she tried to pull her arm back, twisting away and throwing the opposite door opened.

"Don't be scared, little girl. It won't even hurt." And as he finished, he grabbed her long hair with the other arm, and with her arm and hair in hand, he jerked her backwards, out of the car. Katie let out a scream for help as she fell back into the mud, trying to pull her hair out of his hands.

"Don't waste your breath. No one can hear you scream. This is the only home for miles." He whispered in her ear, as he began dragging her back to the porch.

"Mort!" She cried, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes, "Please, Mort... Don't. I'm so sorry for whatever I've done... Just let me go and I won't tell anybody about this." She sobbed as she was trying to stay on the ground, trying to resist him pulling her up the steps.

"Now why would I go an' do a stupid thing like that?"

"I love you, and I know you love me, Mort. Please!"

At this he stopped, and looked down at her. For what seemed like a lifetime, they stared into each other's eyes. Katie's were showing honesty, softness, yet fear at the same time. Mort's, on the other hand, did not show any expression. "Mort may love you. That's why you caused him to drink, caused him to want to kill himself." He paused briefly then nodded firmly, "Mort loves you."

A relieved smile crossed Katie's lips gently as she reached up a hand for him to take.

"But I don't." He said, with another forceful jerk across the porch as Katie let out another loud, fearful scream. "Ah don't worry!" He yelled at her, "I'm not gonna kill ya!" He opened the door and pulled her through. Atleast she was slightly standing on her feet. It wasn't so difficult to pull her now.

"What do you want of me!" She asked as she began pulling against him again, knocking a lamp over. Then a picture of him and a dog. He pulled her to the center of the living room, and tightly held her. "LET ME GO!"

He shook his head, "Can't do that. Not now."

"Then what do you want!" She screamed in his face. He said nothing, but only watched her. A smirk crossed his lips. Katie let out a yell of anger as she shoved him, he stumbled back but still held onto her wrist, threatening to break it.

Seeing that he was yet still smirking, she spat in his face.

A look of rage crossed his face and he threw Katie to the floor, her head only missing the bottom of the stone fireplace by a few inches. He wiped the spit of with his sleeve.

She stared up at him, "WHAT DO YOU WANT, MORT?" She shouted up at him.

He stood over her, then bent in closer to her face. "You." And with that one of his hands pinned her wrists above her head to the floor and his other hand went to her shirt.

"Hush, baby. You love Mort...I'm doing this for him."


	10. A Lost Memory

_A.N-_

_Minijudi: Aye (I've been saying that a lot lately...don't know why...pirates...), I know, I know. The whole him pulling a girl out of her car. Well I didn't plan on it to happen. I it just all fell into place. Katie's car getting stuck in the mud as an 'excuse' to come into his house (though she got stuck in his driveway...), Mort drinking, Them having an agruement, Katie storming out to the car, Mort/Shooter following after another drink. Again, it all just fell into place. Plus, this is Mort/Shooter... they just stick to old habits... pulling people out of their cars..._

_cough Yeah..._

_Well here's the next chapter._

* * *

Mort heard a buzzing noise, and felt annoying little legs on his arm. He waved his arm, the fly buzzing away. "Damned flies. No use." He grumbled to himself. Honestly, what was the purpose of flies? All they do it fly around you start waving your arms wildly around yourself trying to kill the fly, wanting to scream out loud. "Damned flies!" He shouted as he sat bolt upright in bed, looking around himself. His glasses were still on his face from the night before.

The night before.

Mort felt knots tie in his stomach. He had gotten into a fight with Katie. He told her that Derek deserved what he got. Mort didn't take it back either. She had slapped him across the face and it actually stung like hell. Though at the time he didn't know what was worse, the physical or emotional sting from the slap and the angry tears in her eyes. The emotional he guessed.

Putting a hand on his cheek, feeling for a ginger spot, he found none. It didn't hurt. Though touching his cheek made a lump come up in his throat. Oh God. She hated him didn't she? She never wanted to see him again, didn't she? The look on her face when she stormed out...

He paused in mid-thought. What? What happened after she stepped out of the house?

Mort remembered seeing her storm towards the door, but he didn't remember her go outside? Did she go outside even? In the rain? Why didn't Mort say he was sorry and offer her his bed to sleep in, though it would be against his will, he'd sleep on the couch (instead of with her). Chills ran up his spin. He had no clue of what happened after the fight.

Hearing humming, he smiled to himself briefly. It was Katie.

No. No it wasn't. The humming came from a deeper, lower tone. The Sheriff? No. He hadn't come for a 'visit' in a long time. Then came the words to the song, 'Mama's little babies love shorten', shorten', Mama's little babies love shorten' bread.'

It took all he had to keep the pitiful meal he had yesterday from coming back up his throat. Shooter. What was Shooter doing here? In his home while he was sleeping.

Slowly Mort got out of bed and quietly walked out of his bedroom. He looked at himself. Baggy pants, and a plain gray t-shirt with an orange stain on it near the chest. Most likely from one of his numerous bags of Doritios. He looked up, shaking his head to himself. Why did he care what he looked like around this back-woods, redneck, in-bred hick? Mort threw opened the door to see Shooter sitting at his desk, in front of his laptop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Nothin', Mr. Rainey, nothin'."

"Well I reckon you better get the fuck out of my house now." He said pointing to the door.

"I see your story is comin' along well." Shooter said, looking at Mort who said nothing.

After a moment Mort pointed to the door again, down the steps, "Get the fuck out before I-"

"What? Call the police? They've gave you the boot from town. They won't come out here. They'll think you have gone crazy... In less you confess."

"I did not murder anybody." He said through gritted teeth.

Shooter grinned and shook his head, "Never gonna give in with that, are you? But I wasn't talkin' bout that."

"Then what were you talking about?"

Shooter rested his chin on his fist, his eyes dancing in delight. "Check your pants pockets." He watched him, "Just do it, Mr. Rainy."

Mort shoved his hands into his pockets impatiently but froze when he felt something metal in his left hand. Keys. He pulled them out and stared at them. They weren't his. "They're Katie's."

"What? You framed me of stealing her car?"

Shooter shook his head. "No one framed you of stealing... Why don't you go ask Katie why you have her keys? She's out by the lake."

"She's here?"

"Of course. You have her car keys. You said you'd give them to her today. You told her not to go anywhere, or else."

"Or else what?" Shooter said nothing but nodded towards the door. With a glare, Mort turned away and walking down the staircase.

Well at least he could say he was sorry to Katie. He'll just say he was drunk, after all, that was the truth. He'd apologize and beg Katie to forgive him. If she would, he'd raise her paycheck and have her do hardly any work at all. He'd invite her to stay with him over this next weekend. Then he'd invite her to stay a bit longer...

Mort grinned to himself as he walked out of the door, singing under his breath, "We're going to the chapel and we're gonna get married." He shook the thought out of his head. He was getting too far ahead of himself.

"Katie!" He called to her and she quickly spun around to face him. She pointed to him with a nervous yet angry look on her face.

"STOP! Don't you DARE come any closer to me, Mr. Rainey!"

Mort stopped were he was ordered to, "What ever happened to calling me Mort?"

Katie said nothing but stuck out her hand, "Throw me my keys."

"What? Katie I just want to-" He took one step closer.

"STOP!" She screamed at him and Mort did.

"What's wrong?" He asked, holding out her keys for her to come and get. He wasn't going to throw them to her.

"How dare you ask me like that. All innocently. You damn know what the fuck is wrong you son-of-a-bitch, bastard !"

Mort stared at her, shocked. How could such a beautiful mouth say that many curses in a sentence? "Huh?"

"I SAID NO!" She shouted as she ripped the keys from his hand. "I didn't fucking want to!" She walked to her car, still yelling, "You sick son-of-a-"

Mort slowly ventured toward her, "Katie, I have no clue of what happened last night... Whatever I did... I'm sorry."

She got in her car, "Sorry doesn't take back rape!"

Mort felt the meal come up again, but he held it back. He felt himself sway, "What?" He echoed out.

"That what it is when I said NO!" She shouted at him, tears beginning down her face. She shook her head, watching him. "I was begging you not to Mort. I WAS BEGGING!"

Mort watched her, speechless. What? He couldn't of. "No. I wouldn't rape anyone. Certainly not you. Your still just a girl."

Katie stared at him, "Then why did you do it you sick bastard?" She was no longer yelling, but her tone of voice was worse. It made Mort feel like he could break down at any moment. "I thought I loved you... but now I hope you rot in hell." Katie said as she slammed the door to her car and hit reverse.

Mort watched as she pulled out of his driveway, and out of view, but he could hear her car speeding down the road.

He felt his legs buckle under his weight right before his knees hit the ground. His eyes looked to his house and he saw Shooter leaning against the wall on the porch. Then everything went black.


	11. Losing Touch

_AN- Sorry for the wait... But... here._

* * *

All at once, Mort seemed to come back to life.

He awoke with his heart pumping as Shooter towered over him, staring down at him with a half smirk pulling at a corner of his lips.

Mort stared up at him with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, dragging rapid breaths in his lungs. He wasn't sure why he was breathing so heavily. Maybe he was from just find out from Katie what happened, or that he fainted then awoke to Shooter, or that Shooter was back in his life. Maybe it was all three the made Mort feel like he was going to burst out at anyone at any second.

At the current moment, that anyone was standing next to him. That anyone was Shooter.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" He screamed as in one suddenly motion he was on his feet, then tackled Shooter to the ground. Mort plunged his fist into Shooter's face as he continued to yell.

"YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" He punched him in the jaw. "SHE HATES ME!" Whack. Right across the face. "YOU MOTHER-"

Before he could finish, Shooter pushed Mort away, and was on his feet. He grabbed Mort by the collar of his shirt, and threw him against the tree. Mort felt the air being wiped from his lungs as he hit the tree. Shooter grabbed his throat, "My. Rainey. I suggest that you calm yourself down. You're gonna get yourself killed one o' these days." He let go of Mort, who dropped to the ground.

Mort swallowed, rubbing his throat, glaring up at Shooter.

Shooter took a cigarette out of his pocket and put it to a lips. "Oh don't your worry." He told Mort as he took a small matchbook out, striking a match on the back of it. He put the flame to the end of the cigarette, watching Mort intently. "You'll thank me soon enough."

"What do you mean I'll thank you?" He asked suspiciously. "Thankful for what?"

He leaned over, and blew a breathful of smoke into Mort's face. Shooter grinned but said nothing as he stood up. He tipped his hat to Mort, "G'bye, Mr. Rainey."

Mort resisted the urge to chase after him. So... he only watched as he weaved through the trees next to his home. He leaned back against the tree, holding his forehead in pain, or in deep thought. Either way, it didn't really matter. All he wanted to know was why he'd be thankful to Shooter?

Slowly, Mort stood up, brushing the dirt off of his pants as he made his way back into his home. He trudged up the steps, and walked into his home, his head hung low, staring down to his shoes. Mort grabbed a half-empty bag of Doritios and Mountain Dew as he walked to the couch, throwing himself on it.

With a heavy sigh, he reached into the bag, pulling out a handful of the cheesy chips. All at once, he stuffed them into his mouth. Stale. He cracked the can open, and took a deep swig of it. Luke warm. This is what his life consisted of: Stale chips, warm Mountain Dews, and for company he had a backwoods, redneck, psycho hick. Great.

With a glared, Mort threw the bag of chips a small distance away from the couch and set the Mountain Dew on his coffee table. He stood up off of the couch and walked to the phonejack. In annoyance, he riped the cord out of it then walked back to the table. He picked up his phone, throwing it on the ground. Then he strode over to the fireplace, and pushed the face of the clock down, so he wouldn't know what time it was.

He had a new plan: Sleep until he was dead. He'd spend his whole life sleeping. That way, he couldn't be bothered. At least he wouldn't be bothered with reality that way. He could deal with a few nightmares now and then.

Mort took the blanket off of the back of the couch and laid down again. He put the blanket over himself as he let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to die while he was sleeping. Then there would be no pain. Then the image of Katie's face of when she told him what he did wouldn't haunt him.

He closed his eyes tighter, trying to force himself to sleep. Why would he be thankful to Shooter? What would Katie do? Find a new job? Hate him forever? What if he died tonight? Would she attend his funeral? Would anyone find him? Mort was not afraid of death, but he was a bit fearful of dying alone and never being found. Any sane person would have the same fear. Right? Of course.

Mort rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He felt his eyelids drop, but he opened them. He now wanted to organize his thoughts, his dozens of questions. Why would he give thanks to that hick?

He fell asleep trying to figure out the reasons.

* * *

_(Two weeks later)_

An eager knock on the door.

Mort sat on the couch, staring at the flames that casted shadows around the room. Dancing shadows. He took another drink of whiskey and took a long drag of the cigarette, as he mentally noted what the shadows were doing.

Another knock. Then a few more.

He wet his dry lips, and turned his head toward the door. His face was pale. Very pale. Almost unbelievably pale. His chocolate eyes were also very dull in color. Whiskers were going on his jaw from the lack of shaving. With a great sigh, he pushed himself off of the couch.

More knocks. But this made him go no faster. He took his time.

He pulled the door open. For a few moments he had to squint to get his eyes back into focus.

"Where have you been, Mort?" She asked hysterically, "I've been trying to call you for three days now."

Mort slowly turned his whole body back to the empty phonejack on the wall. Then to the phone still lying on the floor. "I dunno." He answered as he turned back to her, "Why do you care, Katie?"

She stared at him, then gulped and dropped her eyes. Katie took a deep breath then looked back up to him. "We need to talk." She told him, forcing her way past him as she walked into his home.

Mort stared at the empty space infront of him. For a few moment he stood at the door. He shrugged. "Okay." Mort turned back to Katie, closing the door. "What do we need to talk about?" He asked again, wetting his lips.

* * *

_Review!_

_  
Next Chapter: The drama will build... Just you wait until you read it._


	12. Riddles

"MORTEN!" She yelled.

Mort cringed to himself. He hadn't heard his full name be shouted since he and Amy had a fight. Amy. Katie. Amy married Mort. Amy slept with Ted behind Mort's back. Slut. Mort found them and...Katie came then. Katie is here now. She came back to him. She loves him, doesn't she?

"MORT!" Katie shouted, clapping her hands together loudly infront of his face.

He drew his head away and stared at her questioningly, "Huh?"

"Snap out of it!"

Mort looked at his dirty socks and grinned to himself, even let out a small chuckle. He really was losing touch with reality wasn't he? He was becoming crazier day by day by day, moment by moment. The crazy bus better come pick him up soon. The thought of himself being put into a white jacket that hugged his body all day made Mort's laughs burst.

Katie stared at him "You taking drugs or something? What the hell is with you, Mort?"

He shook his head, "Nothing." He said with another chuckle. "Just a thought." He took off his glasses and put them to his lips. Fogging them with his breath, he then wiped the lenses on his shirt and put them back onto his face. He folded his hands together, "What is it, Katie?" Mort was now imitating a very professor like voice.

"Never mind! You're a moron!" She said in annoyance, brushing past him walking back to the door.

"No-No." He caught her arm, gently pulling her back to him. Mort gave her the most charming smile he could manage at the moment. "Now, dear, what seems to be the problem? What do we need to conversate about?"

She sighed and folded her arms across her chest, staring him down intently. Her stare made Mort comeback to life somewhat, the expression in his eyes going from careless and carefree to... serious, questioning. "What is it?" He asked, regaining control of himself.

"I can't handle this." She said, shaking her head.

"Handle what?"

"This-" She said, her eyes dropping down from his for a moment, only a brief moment before she looked him dead in the eye.

He coughed, "What?"

Katie shook her head, and dropped her arms to her side, "Are you fucking stupid?"

Mort paused. His eyes shifted around his home uneasily. "What?"

She held her breath, her fingers tapping her legs. She looked behind her, then to the ceiling, to her shoes, then his face, then her eyes rested on his chest. Katie was trying to look him in the eye, but she found she couldn't do it. "I'm not a slut." She said suddenly.

"I never called you one." Mort stopped, he had no memory of the many times when he was drunk. "If I did, I didn't mean it."

"You're the only one."

"What?" He asked with his eyebrows quirked. Why was she being so complicated?

"That I've slept with. Not that I wanted to, but... You're the only one."

Mort went silent, then coughed, "Huh?"

"I'm late, Mort... Late."

"For what?" He asked, holding up his palms as if surrendering to her, "An appointment? You can talk to me after it... Don't want to make you any later that you already are."

"Have you never heard of the 'birds and the bees'? Not late for an appointment." She sighed, "Put this together- You're the only one I've had sex with in months. I'm late. I'm confronting you."

He adjusted his weight to his other foot. Was she? No. Couldn't be. "What are you trying to say, Katie?"

She put her hands through her hair then let out a sigh crossed with a shout. "Stop being a dumbass, Mort! I'm trying to tell you that I'm going to-" She hesitated then put her hands on her stomach, "A baby!"

His eyes widened, and he started walking backwards from her, "NO! THAT'S A LIE! YOU ARE NOT! WHY ARE YOU LYING?" He bumped into a table behind him.

She advanced toward him, "I am not a liar! Your going to be 'daddy' from now on! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" She shouted. "You will not up and leave! You caused this and you WILL go through with the consequences!"

"YOU'RE A LIAR! YOU ONLY WANT MY MONEY!" What a lie that was. Mort was barely above bankrupt.

Mort felt his stomach bubble and rumble as she continued to yell on and on. He lurched forward, feeling his last few meals (Doritos) threaten to enter his throat again.

"I WON'T BE LEFT ALONE!"

He pushed Katie out of the way as he ran up the stairs to his bathroom. He slammed and locked the door behind him. In the next second he was infront of the toilet, Katie's words echoing in his mind. Mort clenched his trembling hands together as he flushed the handle. Up the steps and through the bathroom door he could hear Katie's sobs.

Mort let his body fall to the cool floor, staring up at the ceiling.

"_I told you to fire her before anything happened. Now look what happened, 'Daddy'. You'll regret this. Believe me."_

"Shut up." Mort murmured to the familiar voice.

"_You wanted this to happen. You wanted it. You thought that if you knew that if Katie was going to have your child, you wouldn't hurt her. Let her go now. Make her go. It is better if the child is raised without you... Derek would've made much better of a father. You killed him. For once be responsible. Send Katie away. Tell her you never want to see her again... It's for the best. It's the best for Katie and the baby."_

Mort only made a choking sound, shaking his head.

"_Let Katie raise the child alone. Atleast with someone other than you. It'll be best for the kid."_

Mort shook his head. "No." He whispered as he felt himself blacking out again.

* * *

_Review!_

_Alright, so Mort is unsure about the whole being a 'daddy' . __It doesn't help with his 'better-half' telling him to give up nor does it help with Shooter's taunting. He'll be having quite a few doubts about himself and about having a family in the next chapter. _


	13. Hopes, Regrets, and Ideas

_A.N- Sorry for the long wait... Been really busy... so, so, so sorry..._

* * *

When he awoke the next morning, the sun was shining brightly on his cheek. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what happend. Mort realized where he was, on the floor of his bathroom, and he realized how he got there... He had fainted. Fainted from something someone had told him. What was that something and someone? It was about Katie and Mort. Katie had told him-

"Shit!" Mort cursed suddenly and loudly as he pushed himself off of the floor in an instant. He felt dizzy as he sat up so suddenly, his head felt heavy, his vision even went black for a moment, then, to his great disappointment, quickly returned. It was disappointing because, well maybe if he didn't see Katie or anything that reminded him of her, she'd just simply be forgotten.

He stood up, gripping onto the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. A smirking image of himself looked back. _"I told you so."_

"What?" Mort stared at him with a mouth slightly hanging open, "What the fuck did you say to me, you dumb fuck?"

_"Language, language, language, Morten, you didn't want your child to have a mouth like that, do you? I had said, 'Just fire her before you do anything you'll regret', but you didn't listen."_

Mort opened his mouth to say a reply, but he said nothing. Nothing at all came out. He closed his mouth, shaking his head. "I don't regret it."

_"In a way you do, in a way you don't. You regret it because now you can't be the priority of your life, it can't be just about you, you'll actually be responisble for another person's life. A child's life. No more of this sleeping till two in the afternoon, only to go back to bed at seven... You don't regret it, because you think that you won't hurt Katie. You _think_ that if you know she is carrying your child, you won't at all do anything to her."_

"Shut the hell up." Mort growled as he left his bathroom.

As soon as left the bathroom he went to the steps, he looked over the railing for any sign of Katie. He hoped to see her laying on the couch, peacefully sleeping. Mort would cook her a gentle breakfast, and softly wake her up. Then they would talk about the situation in thoughtful whispers, chins in their hands, staring off at random things while speaking, avoiding all eye contact. But then, at the end, there would be a silence, and their eyes would slowly go to eachother's and be filled with delight. They'd smile at eachother, then Katie would throw her arms around his neck, hugging him. Everything would be okay.

But, she was not there on the couch. There wouldn't be a chance for that. Mort gripped onto the railing as he slowly went down the stairs with heavy feet. He glanced into the kitchen, the porch, the living room, and even the small closet. She was nowhere to be found. What happend after he fainted, locked away in his bathroom? Did she declare she loved him or that she hated him? Did she sit and wait for him to come up, or leave right away?

He roamed back into his messy kitchen in a daze and sat at the kitchen table. He stared at the contents ontop. Some Jack Daniels bottles, old newspapers from weeks before, a six month old magazine, a few near emty cans of Mountain Dew, and two stale bags of Doritos. Blinking, he shook his head and looked away from the junk to the ceiling, then to the floor, then back to the table. With a growl of frustration, he whipped his arms over the table, knocking everything to the floor. Leaning forward on his elbows, he held his head in his hands.

Could he honestly see himself as a father?

It was nice to think, nice for Mort to imagine, to dream of, but honestly he couldn't see himself as a father. Teaching a boy to play catch, and having him come into the house crying with scraped knees after falling off his bike, he couldn't really see himself doing. What if it was a little girl though? He couldn't see himself bouncing a little girl on his knee, painting a room pink, and buying her things that say "daddy's little girl". Mort couldn't imagine himself being the dad to small children, preteens, or teens. There was no possible way.

But sudden an imagine came into his mind that he could easily see himself doing.

His child getting a bad grade or mouthing off, or maybe they wouldn't be doing anything wrong at all. Maybe Mort just stumbled into his home completely drunk. Maybe just hours before he drowned himself with whiskey, beer, wine, who knows what else? But those small eyes would look up to him in love and the child with throw themself at him, hugging his legs. But he would be irritated by the drinks, and push them away, much harder than needed. They'd start crying, like children naturally do. This would only bother him more, and Mort would tell them to stop, be quiet, then he'd raise his voice, screaming at them to shut-up. Maybe he could even go up to the child, and take their small arm with a tight grip, lifting them off of the ground. Katie would come out and scream at Mort to put the kid down. Mort would, after glaring at the kid a few low-toned comments, then he yell at Katie and shove her away before storming out of the house to the car. He'd drive away to some back, hardly-used road to sit and think about what just happened. Guilt would overcome his drunk self and he would pull a gun from the glove-compartment. Mort would open his mouth, putting the barrel to his lips...

"Dammit!" He shouted out loud at the thought, slamming his fist onto the table. Mort closed his eyes tightly, tears escaping.

Why could he not see himself as a good father but he could easily see himself as an awful, drunk, short-tempered father and husband, shoving his family around? Is that what would happen? Is that what would be?

"No!" He groaned, dropping his head to the table, "I won't...I won't..."

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, he sat up, looking out of the window. , "I'd be the best damn dad in this god-damned place. I'd be the one always drinking out of those number-one-dad cups, no doubt... I'd be drinking out of them in a bigger, better house... People always wanting my autograph... I'd win all of the damn author awards."

Author...writing...stories...

His dark eyes instantly looked out of the doorway, up the steps to the loft, to his desk. The story was almost finished, he remembered. He had written quite a few chapters while having his breakdown. Chapters filled with hopelessness, being lost, darkness... but they were good chapters. Chapters that could actually be made into a book.

Mort narrowed his eyes, as he was growing more thougtful.

If he could finish this book and have it published, he'd have more money. Well, you need money to have more money, so... Mort would have money, but a good amount.

A good enough amount to make a nursery room and buy things to go with it. A crib, toys, shelves, a changing table and whatever else was needed. That way he could convince Katie that he wanted to be a father, so maybe she'd move in with him. Maybe romance would erupt and they'd be married. Maybe he'd then get enough money to buy a bigger, better house someplace, someplace that was far, far away from where he was now living. He'd be able to start a new life...

Start with a clean sheet...


End file.
